


Safety in Swingsets

by NowhereLand



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, First Kisses, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, One Shot, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:21:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26261080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NowhereLand/pseuds/NowhereLand
Summary: They were two grown adults who could kill without thinking twice. The dead walked among them. And they were  talking about playground equipment.
Relationships: Connie/Daryl Dixon
Comments: 13
Kudos: 59





	Safety in Swingsets

**Author's Note:**

> After weeks of saying that I would post one of the many drafts lurking in the depths of my Google Drive I finally am doing it! I write largely for my own amusement and this isn't my favorite thing I've written, but I hope it does the trick for y'all. Stay safe and healthy out there :)

Connie was restless. 

Had been since coming back from the herd. There was something unsettling about being in the walls after having walked among the dead, after having worn the dead. The feeling of the mask on her skin never really leaving and the stench still appearing in the air, suddenly and never announced. She shivered at the thought.

She walked regularly now, constant laps around Alexandria in the dark. With Hilltop gone, the community was still new and fresh, and she still managed to notice things she never had. Like the herb garden on Aaron’s front porch or the small painted rocks outside of the infirmary. Kelly came with her occasionally, and oftentimes she passed Magna, her own aimless walking making them cross paths and lock eyes in a brief acknowledgement. Other times she found Daryl, on his porch or leaving watch, and she’d sit with him too.

He had come to see her in the infirmary while she’d been recovering, sitting up with her until the early hours of the morning and trying his hardest to make her smile. Daryl was many things, humorous was maybe the least expected, but without a doubt one of the most loved. And while he had never said it, but she suspected that he knew what it was like to have been alone with your mind racing and sights that only appeared whenever your eyelids closed. And maybe he wanted nothing more than for her to avoid such loneliness. 

She knew now that they had something going before the war, a slow burn that would leave her stomach churning, and now a faint yearning in her chest. They were both cautious, dancing around in circles and pretending that it just wasn’t there. Whatever they had was unnamed and largely unsaid, but she desperately wanted it back. 

So, she often found herself seeking him out, hoping to find what it had been or what it was. She found it in small bursts, in between the constant flashing images of the dead. So she would go off to him, way too late at night, slipping quietly to his side for hours at a time. He didn’t push her away, never once asked her to leave. And maybe, because it was late and no one was looking, she had taken one or two drags of his cigarettes and laid her head on his shoulder. And maybe he had even held her hand once or twice while they had walked; not that he’d ever tell. 

The two often talked, never about what she had seen while walking amongst the Whisperers or how he had lost himself for a day or two after the cave collapsed, or so Kelly told her. Their topics were light, the funny things the kids had said recently or the book she had last read. It made her feel normal again, and with her sleep postponed, made the nightmares a little farther off in the future. He would make her laugh and she would feel her guard drop, if only for several seconds.

That night, like most, she walked, looking for him and him only, through Alexandria. There was a chill, long breezes moved her curls gently. It was dark, with no lights from houses or streetlights. The cigarette gave him away immediately, a faint orange glow from the swingset on the mismatched but well-loved playground in Alexandria. Her feet moved quickly and she was within his line of sight in seconds.

He looked up at her as he took a drag. She looked back with a quirked eyebrow, a silent question asking if she could join him. He nodded to the swing next to him. 

Connie sat, holding out her hand expectantly to him. She had stress smoked many times in her life, a pack hidden in her sock drawer or mooched cigarettes from some random guy outside of a bar. Her dirty secret didn’t stop in the apocalypse. He slipped her the cigarette and turned to talk as she inhaled. 

“Those things will kill you.”

She breathed out a cloud of smoke between them and shrugged. She held the cigarette in front of her and watched the burning end, holding it back for him to take. 

“ _ We’re both still here.” _

“Lucky us.”

He took another drag. 

Connie sat on the swing, wrapping her hands around the metal chains. She didn’t feel lucky, not anymore. The novelty of surviving long gone, the world no more scary than it had ever been, things she was sure he felt too. They both had been surviving long before the end of the world, long before the skin freaks started roaming around and the electricity got shut off for good. Maybe that was one of the reasons they had clicked so quickly. 

She pushed herself back and forth on the swing with her heels. She had always been more drawn to slides as a kid. She remembered climbing and speeding down the metal slide at the park by her parents home over and over and over again. The drop of her stomach as she sped down a feeling unlike anything else. In retrospect, the slide had been excessively tall and definitely unsafe, getting hotter than hell in the summertime. It was a death trap really; but it was secure. Familiar. She reached into her pocket, withdrawing the notebook and beginning to write. 

**I never really liked swings.**

Daryl furrowed his eyebrows but smirked at the note.

“You know how? Or you want me to push you?”

She gave him an unamused look in response but pursed her lips as she attempted to not let a smile break out across her face.

**Not what I meant.** He continued giving her the small smile, and she went back to writing.  **It’s a lot of work for not a lot fun.**

“You just ain’t doing it right.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, cocking her head slightly, questioning what he meant. 

“The kids always have me do this thing-” he paused mid sentence, realizing that he was rambling. “Here,” 

He stood, dropping the cigarette and stepping on it. He gently took her notebook from her grasp, setting it on the seat he had just abandoned. Taking her hands in his, he moved them to the chains and wrapped them firmly in place, about level with her chin. Her hands disappeared beneath his familiar, calloused ones. She had found herself thinking of this touch often, before and after the cave, itching for it whenever she saw him. He had been more generous to give it as time went on. Maybe he was comfortable enough to let his guard down, or maybe he had realized her quiet want for his skin on hers. Either way, she wouldn’t complain. 

Connie was sure the look on her face was one of confusion, but she was amused. She hadn’t seen a swingset in years, probably hadn’t been on one in decades; and Daryl Dixon was the last person she would have ever expected to be showing her the best way to have fun on one. But he seemed utterly committed now, determined to make her enjoy the swingset.

“Hold on,” he said before moving his hands to the chains below her grip. 

He began to spin her seat, tightening and twisting the chains above her head. She watched as Alexandria swirled around her in dark shadows. She came to face him again when he was satisfied with the long chain of twisted metal above her head. He was close to her, standing over her body and holding her in place. 

Connie looked up at him. He had a smile, one of the wide, admittedly cute ones she had learned was only for her and only for when they were alone. His hair pushed slightly back, soft and falling in feather light locks across his brow. It was clean, a sign that he was most likely in Alexandria permanently, staying behind the walls. Those eyes, usually cold and darting, on a constant search for threats, focused on her and shining a deep blue. There were new scars on his face, from Alpha, from looking for her. She couldn’t help swoon slightly, a ridiculous feeling coming from deep within her stomach that she would give anything to push away. She was Connie, logical but reasonable, focused, keeping the group sane and together. And she didn’t  _ do _ romance novel bullshit but God - was she in deep. 

“Three, two,” his lips spoke slowly, longer than a second, purposefully dragging out the countdown, “one…and a half” she let go one of the chains to slap his arm. He chuckled.

“One,”

Her body spun quickly through the air as he released his grip in the chains. It was jerky, and the world spun quickly around her. For a moment she forgot where she was, and she closed her eyes to feel herself move against the night. It wasn’t an unwelcome feeling, her body resisting against the wind and unraveling of the chains. It made her feel solid, real; grounded in a way she hadn’t been since the cave. Time had stopped then, reality altered. It never really went back to normal. 

The swing came to a stop, her body facing forward, the spin ending. She felt her heart pounding as she opened her eyes. It was not an entirely unwelcome feeling. It was a beat of humanity, excitement, maybe even joy. She looked at Daryl as he watched her expectantly, she jumped at the chance to rope him into light joking. 

“ _ That was terrible _ .”

“ _ Liar.”  _

She gave him a look of mock offense but couldn’t stop the smile forming on her face as he crossed his arms.

“You liked it. _ ” _

_ “A little.”  _ she mirrored his position. Letting a slight giggle escape her lips. 

“Thank  _ Judith _ and  _ RJ _ ” he signed the kids name swiftly. 

He looked satisfied with himself at her response. Connie pointed at her notebook, asking him to hand it to her. He did, retaking his seat next to her. She watched as he settled before poking his side. 

“ _ Thank you, _ ”

“For what?”

She tried to find the words, her thoughts suddenly jumbled. For being something normal after her world was shaken up for the upteenth time? For letting her tag around when he probably wanted nothing more than to be left alone? For having the softest smile and the biggest hands that she definitely had pretended not to notice for the better half of a year?

She waved her hand between them before replacing it back on the chain for the swing, asking him to ignore what she had said. He gestured for her notebook and she gave it up, leaning over to watch as he wrote. 

**You’re welcome.** He paused, hesitating before writing beneath it,  **Sorry we don’t have a slide.**

She giggled, making her lips and throat hum as it passed through. The way he looked at her, amused and happy, made her face warm and her smile only widened. They were two grown adults who could kill without thinking twice. The dead walked among them. And they were talking about playground equipment. She was laughing. There were few people left who could make her laugh like that, especially when she wanted nothing more than to curl up and avoid facing the realities of this world. Daryl was one of them. 

She wouldn’t have thought it’d be like this when she had first seen him. Brooding and dark and angry, glaring from the corner and not saying a word. He was someone others seemed to avoid, which he seemed content with. But they also looked to him for answers, and she could see immediately how he wanted anything but that. Others found him intimidating; she hadn’t. Maybe that intrigued her most of all. 

He nudged her arm lightly, breaking out of her trance.

“What?”

**You’re just full of surprises.**

He was looking over her shoulder, and she when lifted her eyes from the paper his face was only inches away from her own. He still looked confused, not knowing what she was getting at. Connie couldn’t help but notice the lines that formed between his eyebrows as he tried to work out what she meant by it. 

He caught her gaze, eyes soft. She knew she wanted to kiss him, she had recognized that feeling months ago. She had stifled the urge, ignoring the embarrassing thoughts that crossed her mind when she saw him. There were a lot of things she didn’t know, why Merle wasn’t around anymore or why he avoided talking about Rick Grimes like it was the plague. She didn’t know about his life before, didn’t know how he got the scars she’d seen glimpses of underneath the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. 

But he was Daryl,  _ her  _ Daryl. Awkward, but never anything less than sweet. Daryl who was too deep in his own head to see how wonderful he was. The man who had been adorably invested in her slingshot lesson and who got entirely too excited when he knocked over a can with it. Daryl, who she was almost positive, hadn't kissed anyone since the world ended. But he was right there, close enough that she could see light freckles on his cheeks and the edges of the scar over his eye. 

She shifted, lessening space between them, putting them almost nose to nose. He seemed to freeze at the action. She gave him time to move back, to reject her if he wanted to. Her heart pounded in her ears, and her hand tightened on the chain, but he didn’t move. She made the quick, reckless, decision to close the space between them.

Their lips met briefly. Her lips seemed to tingle, a flicker of something she could not name seeming to wash across her. Eyes fluttered closed as he gently pressed against her mouth with his own. He seemed unsure, leaving his hand on the chains next to his shouldersx, staying back and out of her personal space.

She pulled away first, Daryl’s breath now ghosting over her mouth. The twisting in her stomach and blush on her cheeks let her know she had liked it. Afraid to open her eyes, she squeezed them shut, scrunching up her face. The frame of the swing shifting above her alerted her to Daryl shifting, coming forward again and capturing her mouth in another kiss before she could process that he’d done it. 

He was moving his lips slowly now, hesitant and chapped against her own. She slipped a hand up to his chest, resting it palm down against the warm linen of his shirt, her other coming to rest on his knee as she leaned forward. The fingers of one of his hands brushed her hip lightly, as if afraid to take hold of her. He pulled back, the feeling of him beneath her touch gone. The ache for him came back immediately, stronger than it had been, her fingers twitching and lips tingling. She opened her eyes slowly, seeing him only inches from her face. His eyes were looking down at her lips, as if reassuring himself that he had just kissed them. 

He moved away slowly, going to settle back into his own swing, forward facing. His head was down, hair covering the entirety of his profile, only the dark red in the tips of his ears poked out through the dark strands. Her body warmed as she settled again, hands taking their place back around the heavy metal chain. She felt giddy, a smile on her face that she was sure looked ridiculous. She pushed herself lightly on the breeze, the rocking motion matching the waves of her stomach. 

She watched her canvas sneakers, a gift from a recent run, kick up dirt. They were her first pair of “cute” shoes she’d had in God knows how long. They matched the moment, something that belonged in a different world. She was sitting out in the middle of the night with relative safety, with walls, with her family only a minute’s sprint away; with Daryl. Who had kissed her gently on a swing set of all places. Only days after narrowly escaping a collapsed mine system. Only days after she was walking through the woods in another person’s skin. She let out a choked chuckle as the realization hit her.

Daryl nudged her side, and she turned to look at him. He seemed hesitant, the skin of his thumb in his teeth, he eyes blinking fast. 

“ _ What’s funny?” _

His shoulders tensed but his hands seemingly shaky. He was studying her, trying to determine something. His leg anxiously bounced.The thought he may think she’s laughing at him crossed her mind, and she quickly moved to ease him, flipping open her journal. 

**This doesn’t feel real.**

“Why?”

She moved her hand below her writing, leaving the tip of the marker on the page before she wrote, a dark splotch on the paper taking its place. 

**I didn’t know if I would get out of the herd.** She hesitated before writing again,  **Sometimes it feels like I never did.**

She could feel him looking over her shoulder. Hovering like a bee. She turned her head, their faces only inches a part of again. He swallowed, the muscles in his neck moving as he did so. 

_ “I’m sorry. _ ” 

Her eyes caught and followed his fist as it moved along the fabric of his shirt. She shook her head, telling him that it wasn’t his fault. It hadn’t been the first time since her return she’d told him. It probably wouldn't be the last. And she hoped one day he would realize it had never been his fault, no matter how much he forced himself to carry the burden. 

He stared at her for a few seconds. A blush seemed to fall onto his cheeks as he gave a smile, letting her know he had heard her. He placed his hand on his bouncing leg as if to stop its movement. They sat that way for a few moments, both sneaking glances at the other only to look away at the slightest hint that they may be caught. 

The set moved as he stood suddenly. She let her head follow his movements, waiting with eagerness to see what he was doing. 

“ _ Walk you home?” _

His face was questioning as he held out his hands to help her stand. She smiled as she took them, relishing in the opportunity to touch him again. He pulled her to her feet, dropping one hand once she was sturdy in front of him. The other stayed, gently enveloping her own. He moved his fingers, lacing them with hers in a gentle clasp. 

She smiled as she pulled him toward the sidewalk, a hum moving from her throat to her lips. He fell into step beside her, his much bigger body seeming to shield her from some unseen force. She felt secure with him there, the sights and smells that seemed to follow her regularly not appearing, not in that moment. His hand was warm and if she moved her thumb, she could feel the pulse in his wrist; reminding her that he was alive. That she wasn’t alone. That she was safe.


End file.
